Carpe Diem
by Michelle-And-The-Beatle
Summary: Dean finds a collection of old instruments in the bunker and wants to try one out. He ends up jamming with his brother. Please Enjoy!


**A/N I had the idea to write a singing!Dean fic after being obsessed with one video at a con where Jensen sang "The Weight" by The Band. And I just used the idea and ran with it. It can be read as just brotherly or Wincest, if your mind so takes you there. And no tickling in this one, sorry.**

**Jensen Ackles singing "The Weight": watch?v=FH6-99…**

**"Hermione Can't Draw" by Starkid from A Very Potter Sequel: watch?v=NLSHq9…**

**Please Enjoy!**

It was a pretty lazy day in the bunker. Sam was busy in his room, probably reading some lore book. Dean was bored, after just finishing his own ancient tome. He chose to go exploring in the bunker. So Dean went down to the basement, checking in all of the closets for something, anything, that would keep him occupied. There was one walk-in closet that caught his attention. It was filled with cases if music instruments. Dean looked around, thinking at first those were pandora boxes disguised with the music cases. But he picked up a square case and shook it, looking around it for devil's traps. There was nothing. He took a chance and opened the box to be met with the pieces of a clarinet. So, they _were _real instruments. He dug through more of them to uncover a whole orchestra worth of musical instruments, ranging from brass to woodwinds to strings.

"Wouldn't peg the Men of Letters as a band…" Dean muttered to himself. He searched deeper into the closet until he came across an isolated case leaning against the wall. It was covered in cobwebs, so Dean had to pull them off before taking the case. It was shaped like an instrument he highly regarded. He sat on the dusty floor, the case laid out in front of him. He unclipped it and revealed a beautiful acoustic guitar. Dean reached in and removed it from it's case. It looked almost brand new, still shiny and lightweight with minimal signs of usage on it. He held it in his hands and strung, but the sound was out of tune. The strings were so stiff that the sound they were making wasn't right. Dean wanted to fix that. He placed it back in the case and carried it out of the closet with him, making his way upstairs. Dean brought it to his room. He sifted through the pockets in the case until he came upon what he was looking for. New strings for the guitar. So Dean set to work.

It took a good half-hour for Dean to cut all the old strings and hook up the new ones. Then he spent another ten minutes tuning it. Finally, he had fixed himself a new guitar. Dean had taken music lessons in his time in high school. He had them once a week, and it was the only class he actually liked. He would look forward to every Thursday when he was allowed in the music room with a tutor. That was in one high school he stayed at for more than two months. Then he dropped guitar lessons in the new school. But even then, he would sneak into the empty music rooms while he was supposed to be in math or science class to play random strings on the school's guitar. When his dad found out that he liked playing the guitar, he shot it down, wanting him to focus on hunting. Dean was crushed, especially having hopes of buying a guitar for himself. Now, 34-year-old Dean was sitting in his own room with his own guitar. He couldn't have been happier.

Dean used the guitar strap around himself and starting strumming the acoustic guitar lightly, trying to think up a tune.

Meanwhile, Sam Winchester had finished a chapter in his book and felt the pangs of hunger hit him. It was that weird time during the day designated as snack time. He set the book down and walked out of his room, but once he took a few steps down the hallway he froze. He thought he heard music. At first, when he recognized it as the sound of a guitar, he assumed it was Dean just blasting his classic rock music a bit too loud. But this music didn't sound like it was coming from speakers or headphones. He backtracked and tiptoed towards Dean's room, the door standing ajar. Sam stood at the wall, peeking in. He didn't believe what he was seeing or hearing.

"Dean?" Sam knocked on the door lightly, stepping in. Dean immediately stopped playing and turned to face his brother, face flushed.

"S-Sorry, Sammy, I didn't mean to annoy you with—"

"No, Dean, it's fine. I just," Sam smiled ever so slightly, "I didn't know you could play," Sam didn't want to worry about where his brother found a freaking guitar in the bunker at the moment.

"Yeah, well… I was done anyway," Dean started to pack up the guitar again, but Sam intervened.

"No, don't stop just because I'm here! I'd, uh, like to hear you play," Sam took the desk chair in Dean's room and brought it up to the side of the bed in front of Dean. He sat in it backwards.

"I was just testing. I really don't remember how to play," Dean was really acting sheepish.

"Do I look like I care about that? Whatever you were doing before sounded pretty good," Sam was highly interested in what he found his brother doing, the brother he looked up to when they were younger and idolized even today. His snack could wait. Dean looked into Sam's hazel eyes and couldn't say no. He fastened the strap around himself again and got the guitar in a comfortable position. He started strumming random cords that melded well together. Sam started to smile.

"You know what that sounds like?" Sam said suddenly, pointing at the guitar as if to illustrate what he was about to say.

"What? Doesn't sound like anything to me."

"Umm… that song you used to be obsessed with when we were younger." Dean looked confused and Sam continued, "Yeah, like, for a whole week you walked around trying to remember all the lyrics. You just hummed the chorus a lot. Can you remember the name?"

Dean strained to think of what Sam was talking about. He fiddled with the chords again, trying to get the tune going again. Sam listened closer. It was going to kill him that he couldn't remember the name of the song. Even though he couldn't sink, Sam tried stringing together random vowels to get the tune in his head and to show Dean. Dean looked up at Sam and grinned, hearing him sing like that. Even through the tone-deafness of it all, Dean remembered and he started putting the words together in his head."

"_The Weight_ by The Band," he simply said. Sam clapped his hands together, "That's it! You can play that?"

"I can try," Dean said. The truth was, Dean knew how to play that song when he was learning the guitar. He had practiced for his music instructor and he even knew the words to the song. So what Sam was referring to was him trying to get all of the words to the song down so he could sing it while he played guitar. Dean strummed what he thought were the opening cords. He was on point and Sam smiled.

_"I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead. I just need some place to go where I can lay my head. 'Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?' __He just smiled and shook my hand, 'no' was all he said."  
_  
Dean sang and Sam was enjoying every minute of it. He recalled the words as Dean sang them, but didn't sing along because he just wanted to hear Dean right now.

"Can I stop now?" Dean asked with a smile, still strumming. He saw how happy and proud Sam looked of his big brother and it warmed Dean's heart.

"Do the chorus. For me. Please," Sam rested his head on his hands, which were folded across the back of the chair.

"If you sing it with me," Dean smirked, knowing he had Sam.

"No, Dean, you know I can't sing."

"Then I'm not finishing the song," Dean had been playing the same five chords this whole time they were speaking. It had created background music for the brothers. Sam noticed and he chuckled a bit.

"Alright fine. You start it," Sam sat up straight. Dean smiled and played the notes before the chorus and then sang.

_"Take a load off, Fanny. Take a load for free. Take a load off, Fanny. And…"_

_"And…"_

_"Put the load—"_

_"Put the load—"_

The both of them chorused, _"—Right on me."_

Sam was smiling widely, enjoying this moment he shared with Dean. The older hunter focused on his guitar playing.

"Remember the next verse?" Dean asked Sam.

"No, I—"

"G'head, Sammy. I won't judge," Dean smirked and played a moment of intense chords to cue Sam's entrance.

_"__I picked up my bag, I went lookin' for a place to hide. When I saw Carmen and the Devil walkin' side by side. I said, 'Hey, Carmen, come on let's go downtown',"_ Sam paused to look up at Dean. Thinking he forgot the rest, Dean finished, _"She said, 'I gotta go but my friend can stick around'._ Nice, brother," Dean showed his approval for Sam's participation.

"You should finish it, I really—"

_"Take a load off, Fanny. Take a load for free. Take a load off, Fanny. And…" _

Sam rolled his eyes, _"And…" "Put the load—" "Put the load—" "Right on me!"_ Dean finished, playing the last few chords of the song sweetly. He put the guitar down afterwards, resting it in his lap. He and Sam just smiled at each other.

"I forgot you could sing, man," Sam chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

"Yeah…" Dean played random chords again, "And I couldn't really forget that you can't sing for shit."

Sam pushed Dean playfully, the latter laughing. Then Dean played a little quirky tune before singing, _"Sammy can't sing. Sammy can't sing. Sammy cannot sing. He only reads books, and he cannot sing. Even if he's reading a how to sing book…" _

Dean would have continued if it weren't for the absolutely precious look Sam was giving him. He was biting on his lip, a lopsided grin gracing his features, obviously stuck between looking angry and very amused with the song. Dean was laughing again. But his brother's laughter was contagious and Sam soon joined him.

"You're a jerk…" he felt his cheeks and ears heating up.

"Haven't heard that one in a while, bitch," Dean accentuated the last word.

"That song wasn't even funny," Sam said, smiling.

Dean quickly laughed again before saying, "Yeah, I think it was pretty genius. You want a reprise?"

"No! No no, it's fine. Heh," Sam gave Dean a funny look, which the older brother picked up on. "What?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"I just… I'm not used to seeing you so happy."

Dean's huge grin faltered when Sam said that, changing it to a small one, still filled with happiness though. "Well, I haven't had much to be happy for in recent months. But now I do. I have my guitar… and you."

"And I have you."

Sam sat and listened to Dean play and hum and sing for a long time, both brothers very happy and certainly occupied. It was nice. They didn't have a lot of nice in their lives, so this was a chance for them to seize the day.

_~The End~_


End file.
